There should be a map
some yellowed long-lost memoir
to guide you
back from the edge
from a world askew
where bubbles sink and tears rise
there should be
a map so you don’t lose
your self along the road
when darkening trees close in
and every turn looks exactly
like the last
and the next
so you can find your way
not back
not home again—those
now little more than dreams
—but someplace quiet restful
where you can spread your coat
on dew-damp grass so green
and sit
and listen
to the wisdom of water
which even without a map
always seems to know precisely
where to go
and how best to get there
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Pexels
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